


Revelation

by likeatumbleweed



Series: The Brave and Happy Life of Loki and Sigyn [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeatumbleweed/pseuds/likeatumbleweed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki and Sigyn's eldest son Ari displays an odd change in behavior, Sigyn surreptitiously follows him to get to the bottom of it. What she discovers has the potential to cause a rift in their family - or bring them closer together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place approximately 80-85 years after the events of Illusion, and Ari is meant to be the equivalent of a 17-18 year old in human years.

“What a waste of my morning,” says Loki as he swings open his chamber doors. “I swear, if my brother requires my presence at another pointless daybreak meeting – what’s the matter with _you_?”

Sigyn is flushed and agitated, pacing the floor in front of their bed. She rushes to his side the moment she sees him. “Oh, Loki! Thank the Norns you’re here.”

The last time she was this upset, he’d been the cause. He thinks through every move he’s made in the past few weeks that might have made her angry and comes up empty. “What’ve I done now?”

“You? Nothing! _I’ve_ done something awful. I need you to talk to Ari.” She raises a shaking hand to her mouth, worrying a nail between her teeth.

His momentary relief at not being the reason for her distress gives way to bewilderment. “Ari? Why? Is he hurt –“

“No, no, he’s not hurt. Well, I guess he is slightly, but it’s nothing serious. He’s just a little… _upset_ with me right now.”

In Loki’s experience, there aren’t two people on Asgard of a more even and compatible temperament than his wife and their eldest son. For Ari to be upset with his mother could only mean she’s done something terrible; Loki can’t think for the life of him what it could possibly be.

“Let’s sit,” he says, leading her to the nearest sofa. “Now take a breath and tell me what happened.”

She sits on the edge of the cushion, her spine straight as a pin and her fingers fidgeting with the skirt of her dress. “You know as well as I do that Ari’s never been one to enjoy sparring. He only tolerated the training because it was required of him, but has never once actively sought it out.”

“I can’t say that I blame him. I wanted to spend all my days in the library when I was his age.”

“And so does he! At least, he _did_ , or so I thought.”

Loki narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m confused, darling. Start from the beginning.”

She breathes in slowly, blowing the air out between pursed lips. “All right. We were having breakfast this morning, after you’d already left...”

* * *

“Mother, tell Eiðr to stop chewing his food with his mouth open. It’s revolting.”

Sigyn looks to her younger son in time to catch him as he sticks an egg-covered tongue out at his older brother. Unna giggles around a mouthful of bread.

_Of course they save their worst behavior for when their father is gone,_ thinks Sigyn. Loki had been called to an early morning meeting with Thor, leaving her to shepherd the children through breakfast alone. What she had hoped would be an uneventful meal was quickly devolving into a battle between her two young sons.

“Eiðr, don’t be crass. And Ari – what has gotten into you? You usually have more patience with him than this.” Normally the most level-headed and calm of her three children, Ari has been on edge all morning, a fact which his younger brother has been leveraging into provoking reactions from him. 

“Maybe all that time he’s been spending at the training grounds is making him cranky,” says Eiðr under his breath, an aside that earns him a kick under the table from Ari.

“Enough! The both of you!” Sigyn pulls Eiðr’s plate away before he can take another bite of his food. “You’re finished. Go wash up.” She nods to the nursemaid. “Dalla, if you would, please take Unna and help her get ready for the day.”

“But, _Mama_ ,” says Unna, “I’m still eating –“

“Take an apple with you, precious. You won’t want to be late for your studies with Amma Frigga.”

When Ari attempts to leave the table as well, she puts a hand on his arm. “No, no. _You’re_ staying.” She holds him in place until the rest of the room’s occupants are gone. “What’s wrong, darling?” she asks softly.

“Nothing. Really.”

“Ari, you do remember who your father is, don’t you? You’re going to have to try harder than that to lie to me.”

Ari’s smirk is the mirror image of Loki’s. “I’m not lying. Everything’s fine.”

“I thought you were going to the library every day. Was Eiðr telling the truth? _Have_ you been spending time at the training grounds?”

Ari’s ears flush a dark blue and the markings on his face become more pronounced, a sure sign he’s hiding something. “I-I’ve been studying fighting techniques from the different realms. You’ve always told me that, when possible, it’s far better to observe rather than only read about a subject.”

“Well yes, of course. But why didn’t you say anything? If I’d come looking for you, I wouldn’t have been able to find you.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t think it was important.”

There is something in his demeanor that makes her want to press, but she refrains. He has become more independent in recent years, the closer he gets to adulthood; she doesn’t want him to think she doesn’t trust him.

“All right.” She takes his hand in hers gently, running her thumb across his knuckles. “Ari…you _do_ know you can come to me with anything, right?”

“Of course I do.” He rises from his seat, and this time she makes no attempt to stop him. He kisses her on her cheek. “Don’t worry so much. I’ll see you at dinner.”

She watches him as he leaves, his bearing and appearance so like a younger version of his father it’s eerie.

“Don’t worry?” she says as the door clicks shut. “You may as well ask me to stop breathing.”

* * *

Sigyn has no scheduled business this day that will take her anywhere near the training grounds, but a little appointment rearrangement takes care of that. If Ari _is_ there and catches her, she will tell him she has a meeting with the armorer that she forgot to mention. She is most certainly _not_ spying on her own son like an overinvested parent. She isn’t fooling herself in the slightest, but it doesn’t stop her from heading toward the training grounds mid-morning.

The sounds of sparring reach her before she arrives at the clearing – the clacking of the wooden practice swords, the grunts of the young men and women (far more of them than ever before, thanks to the influence of Queen Sif) as they battle one another. She fully expects to find Ari watching the action from the side, observing the fighting styles up close exactly as he told her he would be.

What she doesn’t anticipate is to find him actively participating in a match, fighting against a much larger and more skillful boy with such tenacity that it would impress her – if it wasn’t so terrifying.

Ari isn’t what anyone would describe as frail or sickly, but with his father’s build he’s far less robust than his opponent. Sigyn recognizes him as Trostann Veigsson, a young man from a well-regarded and wealthy family who has most recently been apprenticing under the armorer. He is a year or two older than Ari, with striking bronze skin and the broad shoulders of someone who knows his way around a forge. He is pleasant enough, if memory serves, but certainly not someone she would want to face in a sparring ring.

Her first instinct is to jump into the dirt herself and throw her body between the two of them, to scream at Ari for risking himself against so superior an opponent while simultaneously chiding the other boy for taking advantage of a prince. But something stops her – a morbid curiosity to see if her worries are justified...or if Ari can hold his own against this boy.

At first it seems he can. What Ari lacks in bulk he makes up for in sinewy litheness, and he is easily able to sidestep several wide swings of Trostann's wooden sword. But when he tries the same move one too many times, Trostann changes his approach, flipping the sword in his hand and thrusting the handle forward instead, where it catches the edge of Ari's lip. Ari's head snaps back, his hand flying to his face. It comes back covered in blood.

He is staring at his fingers when Trostann uses his distraction to finish the fight. He kicks out, sweeping Ari's feet out from under him. Sigyn can almost feel the impact of Ari's back on the dirt from where she's lurking.

_Get up, Ari_ , she thinks. _Get up_.

“Stay down,” says the larger boy. He retreats with a scowl, only a few steps away when Ari jumps to his feet, all graceless fists and fury. His renewed attack is anticipated, and in three dizzying moves Ari is back on the ground, this time with a foot on his chest.

“I said, _stay down_.”

With a snarl, Ari slithers out from under Trostann’s foot, far enough to be out of his reach when he gets to his feet yet again. Wisely, he doesn’t attempt to continue the fight; instead, he stalks off toward the armory, making sure to shove the larger boy with his shoulder as he passes him.

Sigyn is shocked beyond words – not once has she ever seen Ari fight with such ferocity. It occurs to her that there must be someone else in the vicinity that he is trying to impress, but a quick glance around reveals that no one has taken notice of the spectacle before her, so caught up are they all in their own mock battles.  

Trostann rolls his eyes, hesitating for only a moment before spinning on his heel and following Ari, throwing his wooden sword in a collection bin so forcefully Sigyn hears the blade crack. She can’t tell if he’s angry or frustrated or merely overcome with the adrenaline of victory, but she is certain of one thing – he is walking with purpose after her son, with the look of someone determined to assert his dominance.

She stays as close to the wall as possible as she makes her way around the grounds toward the armory, entering unseen. She hears muffled sounds as she draws nearer into the room – two young men speaking in lowered voices.

“Are you badly hurt?” asks the first.

A pause and a sigh, followed by Ari’s voice. “I’ll be all right. Nothing that won’t heal quickly. You didn’t have to be so rough.”

“Norns, Ari, I told you to stay down. Why didn’t you listen?”

“You made me angry. I’m not as weak as you think.”

“I’ve never thought you were _weak_ …” The other boy’s voice gets steadily lower until Sigyn can no longer understand what he is saying. Ari ceases talking all together; the silence is deafening.

_Perhaps they’ve sneaked out a back door_ , she thinks. She has almost convinced herself to withdraw gracefully when another thought occurs to her. _Or…maybe here, without witnesses, that boy is finishing the job and choking the life out of my son._

Her head is buzzing, her feet warring between trying to carry her back out into the daylight – _he’s nearly grown, he can handle this himself_ – and taking her further into the room to ensure her son’s safety – _but, he’s still my sweet little boy and I’ll never forgive myself if I could have prevented any injury to him_. It isn’t long before her motherly instinct proves too difficult to resist.

She moves silently around a massive column to find Trostann has Ari pushed into a darkened corner, his bulk a menacing counterpoint to her son’s slighter frame. Alarmed, she steps closer, trying to figure out how she can possibly muster the strength to pull him off of Ari when she stops short.

They aren’t fighting at all. They’re _kissing_.

It isn’t friendly, peck-on-the-cheek kissing – no, there is no innocence to the way they are pressed flush together, the way Trostann’s open palm has slid under Ari’s tunic to grip his bare waist, the way Ari’s azure fingers have wound their way into the other boy’s hair. With their total lack of timidity, it’s also clear this isn’t the first time they’ve had their mouths so thoroughly sealed together.

Ari’s faltering words at breakfast, his flush of embarrassment, his secrecy – in this instant it all makes sense.

She tries to retreat before she is seen but her unwittingly sharp intake of breath gives her away, echoing off the walls like an accusation. The two boys break from each other at once, fairly tripping over empty air in an effort to put space between their bodies. They whirl her direction simultaneously.

“Mother?” says Ari, his eyes going wide with recognition.

_Shit. Shit shit shit._

“I – I’m so sorry!” she stammers, her heart in her throat. “I didn’t mean –“

Trostann glances one last time at Ari, his face distraught, before bolting off in the direction of the armory door. Ari immediately makes to follow him.

Sigyn reaches for her son as he tries to pass her. “Ari, please – I thought he was hurting you –“

“He wasn’t _hurting_ me!” Ari snaps, deftly maneuvering out of his mother’s reach. “For pity’s sake, why must you always be so…so _meddlesome?_ ”

His words sting more than a slap to the face; Sigyn had sworn to herself that she would never pry into her children’s lives the way her mother had with hers, yet here she is, caught red-handed doing exactly that. She is stunned into momentary silence long enough for Ari to slip away from her and out the door.  

* * *

“I came back here at once, hoping to talk to him, to apologize – but he arrived first. He’s been locked up in his room ever since, refusing to answer the door to me. Oh, Loki, what have I done?”

Loki wipes a tear from Sigyn’s cheek and tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “You did what you thought was best, beloved, just as any mother would have done…even if you _have_ fouled it up rather spectacularly.”   

She shoves him hard in the chest. “You’re supposed to be helping!”

“And I will. I’ll go talk to him –“

“We’ll talk to him together –“

“Absolutely not. You are to stay right here and allow me to handle this.” She opens her mouth to argue but he silences her with a finger to her lips. “Please?”

When she nods in acquiescence, he moves his hand and kisses her once, briskly. “I’ll fix it, all right? Trust me.”

* * *

Loki stares at the door to Ari’s chambers, even starts to reach out for the handle to let himself in without knocking before deciding against it. He guesses they wouldn’t be in their current circumstances had Sigyn used an equal amount of trust and discretion at the training grounds.

He knocks twice, hard…only to be greeted with a stony silence. Three more raps on the door, and he finally gets a reply.

“Go away!”

“Ari, it’s your father. Open the door.”

“Leave me alone.”

“You’re upset, and understandably so, but if you don’t open this door immediately, I’ll open it myself.”

There is a muffled groan followed by hurried footsteps, and the door is opened the barest crack, just enough for Loki to make out his son’s tear-streaked face. He stares at his father for a moment before glancing over his shoulder. “Is Mother with you?”

“No,” says Loki, sweeping his arm around to prove Sigyn isn’t skulking behind him. “She’s giving us some privacy.”

“ _Privacy?_ ” says Ari, his tone taking on an unmistakable edge of bitterness. “Does she even know the meaning of the word?”

Loki ignores the jab. “Will you let me in?”

Ari steps behind the door, swinging it in as he does to allow his father passage. He shuts it again the moment Loki is over the threshold.

Ari’s hair is matted to his temples, and he carries the pungent odor of a sweaty adolescent fresh from a fight.  He picks at his sleeves as he walks back and forth, not quite raising his eyes to look at his father directly.

“If you don’t mind,” says Loki, “I’m going to sit. I would invite you to do the same.”

He makes his way to the bench in front of Ari’s bed and lowers himself to it. Ari makes no move to join him; he paces incessantly, hugging himself with one arm and chewing a nail in an unwitting but near perfect imitation of Sigyn in distress.

“I suppose Mother told you what happened?” he asks after what feels like an eternity.

“She did. And if you’re looking for self-flagellation and enough guilt to power all of Asgard for a week, you won’t do much better than her at the moment.”

At this, Ari stops, and he looks fully at his father for the first time. Although there is no blood, the corner of his bottom lip is still swollen and bruised from the fight. A spike of anger flares up in Loki’s gut, an urge to find this other boy and pummel him for leaving even the smallest blemish on Ari’s face, but he tamps it down. Instead, he attempts to lighten the mood.

“Kissing shouldn’t cause injuries like that, Ari. You must be doing it wrong.”

He’d hoped for a smile in response. Instead, Ari’s face crumples.

“It _was_ wrong, wasn’t it,” he says between stumbling breaths. “It’s wrong. _I’m_ wrong, I’m sorry –“

“What? No, that isn’t what I meant – I was only…” _Damn. Let’s try this again_.

With a deep breath he rises from the bench and goes to Ari, holding his son’s head in his hands and looking him directly in the eye. “There is nothing wrong with you. Absolutely _nothing_. Is that clear?”

“It isn’t normal –“ 

“Who says it isn’t normal?”

Ari’s lip trembles, and his response is barely audible. “Everyone.”

Loki scoffs. “Everyone?”

“Yes,” says Ari, slightly louder this time. “Our society.”

Loki returns to the bench and collapses onto it with a loud sigh. “They are no more than mindless barnacles, steadfastly clinging to outdated beliefs as if to the prow of a rotting ship, beliefs that do more harm than good. What matters more to you – the good opinion of the worthless masses, or that of the parents who love and cherish you more than the very air they breathe?”  

Ari approaches slowly and lowers himself onto the bench next to his father. “So…you’re not angry with me?” he asks, so full of hope it makes Loki’s stomach clench.

“About this? No, never. Look at me. Don’t I look like a man who’s undoubtedly kissed another man before?”   

“I don’t know. What does a man like that look like?”

“Anyone at all, which is rather the point, isn’t it?” In his life, Loki had had several male lovers, some of whom wouldn’t look him in the eye in public lest they slip and reveal themselves as men who enjoyed the company of other men; it had been a terribly painful lesson to learn. He lapses into silence for a moment as the memories come flooding back before regaining his focus. “What you consider ‘normal’ is simply the most visible and vocal majority. But there are plenty of others who feel the way you do. You’ve found at least one, haven’t you? This Veigsson boy?”

“Trostann. Yes, but he hides the truth, just as I do. He fears his father.”

“Do you fear yours?”

There is no hesitation in Ari’s answer, and it is at once a relief and a stab in the gut. “No. Only his disappointment.”

Loki reaches out and pulls his son in, fully embracing him with both arms. He kisses his hair, trying but failing to remember the last time he held his son this way; it was likely back when Ari was much smaller, back when a hug and a kind word from his father was enough to relieve any kind of hurt. _If only I could ease this pain so easily_ , Loki thinks. _If only I could bear it for you, I would._

When Loki was a child, he would have given anything for Odin to have been a comfort to him when he needed him, anything at all. It has been Loki’s most solemn undertaking as a father, ensuring his children never question how much he values and loves them; for Ari to admit to worrying about disappointing him is as unsettling as it is painful.

“You are not” – Loki chokes down a lump in his throat – “a disappointment to me. You, your brother, your sister…you are now, and will forever remain, my three greatest achievements. My love for you, your mother’s love for you, they are _unconditional_.”   

Ari clings to him tightly, and as Loki speaks he can feel the tension seep out of his son’s body like water through a sieve. When Ari finally pulls away, he uses his sleeve to wipe away the tears on his cheek. “So, _you_ have been with other men?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“But Mother…she’s a woman.” He looks stricken. “Isn’t she?”

“I can assure you, your mother is and has always been female. My gifts in sorcery are vast, but even I’m not _that_ powerful.”

“But I don’t understand. If you like men –“

“Not _only_ men. There were other women as well, before your mother. Some things aren’t always so black and white, Ari. I struggled for years when I was younger, with these seemingly contradictory yearnings, before I made peace with it.”

“Does Mother know?”

“Yes. I’ve never kept that knowledge from her. But I want to make one thing absolutely clear: don’t ever doubt my desire for your mother or my devotion to our family. I’ve never been unfaithful to her, neither with a man nor a woman, and I never will.” He smiles. “It’s sickening really, how much I love her.”

This finally earns the tiniest of laughs from Ari. “It _is_ quite appalling.”

“Well, we must be doing something right, if we’re making our children uncomfortable.” They sit for a moment in companionable silence before Loki speaks up once more. “This news, it wasn’t a surprise to me or your mother. We’ve had our suspicions for some time now.”

Ari’s mouth drops open. “You have?”

“Yes. But we hoped you would come to us on your own eventually. Please understand, your mother never wanted it to happen this way. She was genuinely, if misguidedly, concerned for you. Ari, you are our eldest child. We’re doing everything for the first time with you, and sometimes we make mistakes. Your mother more than I, naturally.”

“I called her meddlesome.”

Loki sucks in a breath between his teeth. “Painful, but not entirely inaccurate. I think a better word would have been… _protective_.”

“ _Over_ protective.”

“Perhaps. But she’s also loving and loyal and accepting and kind and caring and a thousand other excellent things. Do you think maybe you could forgive her for her shortcomings this once?” He leans in for a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s going to make my life miserable until you do.”

Ari nods. “I can do that.”

“Excellent. May I go get her?”

Another nod, nearly imperceptible.

Before Ari can change his mind, Loki stands and walks quickly to the door of Ari’s chambers. He swings it open – and nearly runs headlong into Sigyn, who is standing so close she appears to be trying to merge her body with the door itself.

He tilts his head at her. “Have you been out here the whole time?”

“No!” She looks at the floor. “Yes. May I come in?”

“Of course. He wants to talk –“

She doesn’t let him finish before she is pushing around him. She goes directly to Ari and wraps him up in her arms.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” she says. “Did your father tell you it’s all right? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, darling. We’re not angry. Not at all.”

“He told me,” says Ari, and the relief on his face as he looks at his mother is almost palpable.

“Can you ever forgive me for interfering? I should have trusted you, I know –“

“I’m sorry I called you meddlesome –“

They begin talking over one another, each of them so full of contrition Loki knows it will go on for the rest of the afternoon if he doesn’t put a stop to it.

“I think we’ve reached our quota of apologies, you two,” he says. “Is everyone happy now?”

Sigyn holds her hand out to Loki to invite him closer, and when he takes it she squeezes it tightly. “Thank you, my love.”

“No need to thank me. I don’t like seeing either of you so upset.”

Her face lights up. “Why don’t you invite Trostann for dinner?” she asks Ari. “So we may meet him properly?”

Ari swallows hard. “I-I’m not sure –”

“No, no, it’s fine,” says Sigyn with a wave of her hand. “I need to learn to quit while I’m ahead. Another time perhaps, maybe when today’s events aren’t quite so fresh. Please know that he is _always_ welcome in our home. Any day at all.” She smiles at him. “I suppose you’ll want to go find him and talk to him.”

Ari stands quickly, as though he’s been loaded on a spring, just waiting for permission to go. “If I may.”

“Of course,” says Loki. “Just be back in time for dinner.”

With a nod, Ari starts for the door when Loki stops him. “One last thing,” he says, touching the corner of Ari’s lip and healing the bruise there. “If this Trostann ever causes you to bleed again, even in a sparring ring…” _I will eviscerate him, slowly and thoroughly, and leave his entrails on the palace steps as a warning to any others who would do you harm_ “…he and I will have words. Am I clear?”

Ari’s eyes go wide for the smallest instant. “Yes, Father.” He doesn’t wait for another admonition before slipping past Loki and out the door.

Sigyn is at Loki’s side before the door is fully shut. She leans her head onto his shoulder. “Have I told you lately what an exceptional father you are? How proud I am to be your wife and the mother of your children?”

“Not today. But I never tire of hearing it. Say it again.”

She looks up at him with a heartbreaking amount of sincerity. “You are an _exceptional_ father, Loki.”

“That, beloved, is the greatest compliment you could ever give me.” He takes her hand and leads her out into the corridor. “Now, do you think you might be able to stay out of trouble for the remainder of the afternoon…or do I need to keep you busy?”

“As tempting as you are, I have plenty to do. I delayed my actual work today in favor of spying on our son. I think I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” says Loki with a laugh. “But by all means, continue to convince yourself it’s true.”


End file.
